


The Soldier, The Fiddler

by glitterfucked (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Music, Musicians, One Shot, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Slash, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterfucked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a sleepless fit, Steve finds himself drawn to Tony's bedroom, if only to catch a glimpse of the usually so guarded man vulnerable in his bed. Instead, he is met with an unfamiliar and hauntingly beautiful sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Soldier, The Fiddler

**Author's Note:**

> Ashokan Farewell can be listened to [here](http://youtu.be/2kZASM8OX7s), performed by the original artist, Jay Ungar.  
> Whiskey Before Breakfast can be found [here](http://youtu.be/NXke3nOXjZM), performed by some dude named John.
> 
> This is an updated version of a preexisting story of the same name, originally posted July 7th, 2014.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are super appreciated. Thanks, all!
> 
> [EDIT] I wrote this a terribly long time ago and it is honestly AWFUL. Please don't judge haha. I won't take it down but I hope this doesn't turn you off from my writing forever!
> 
> [EDIT 2] omg please don't read this I'm disgusted. also this is mcu. why.

Steve couldn't sleep again. Every other night, it seemed, he couldn't make himself close his eyes and actually drift off. He almost never slept until he passed out from exhaustion. There was something so terrifying about this new era. The stress and continual shocks of modern day life had truly gotten to him. Nights were long, far too bright reminders of just how different things were. When he peered out the window, no matter the time, no stars could be seen behind the cold city lights. It was unnerving. Frustrated and full of nervous energy, Steve tugged on some sweatpants and left his room to wander the strange tower, his home for the foreseeable future.

As Steve wandered the tower, he considered all the differences between his time and this time— _they are one in the same now,_ he thought wryly. As he rounded a corner, inexplicably drawn in the direction of Tony, his chemically enhanced ears picked up a strange sound. It was a keening, melancholy whine that made the hairs on the back of Steve's neck prickle. As he got closer, the whine turned into a somber melody, and he realized he was hearing someone play an instrument—a violin, to be exact. Though he'd never heard the tune before, it reminded him of simpler times, even older than himself.

Steve approached the source of the music hesitantly, imagining Tony Stark asleep over a stack of plans at his desk, having forgotten to turn off his music. When he made it to the door, left ajar, a sliver of pale light could be seen. He slowly pushed the door open, praying it did not creak—and it did not—and poked his head around. He knew it was silly of him to act so cautious in the most secure building in the country, and he knew he should have let well enough lie, but the music was soothing, and the idea of a sleeping, vulnerable Tony piqued his curiosity. What he saw instead made his eyebrows raise.

Tony's back was turned, and he did not react to Steve's entrance. It took Steve a moment to remember who he was seeing. 

Despite his urge to question, the onlooker couldn't bring himself to interrupt the song. When the lilting notes finally came to a halt, he made his presence known by knocking on the doorway twice, gently.

"Tony...?" Steve whispered gently, though he wasn't quite sure why he didn't just talk at his normal level, as the violin had certainly been loud enough. Tony turned and faced him, one eyebrow above the other, inquisitive.

"Hey there, Cap'," he mused. Steve did not respond, only smiled meekly. "I've played since I was six." Still, Steve was silent. Tony sighed and rolled his eyes. "You need to be thawed out again or something?"

"Is that a fiddle or a violin?" Steve finally asked, awkwardly.

"Is there a difference?" Tony replied.

"I don't really know. You're the player, not me," Steve shrugged. Tony just laughed wryly. "Sorry for barging in. I can't sleep."

"No harm no foul." Tony shrugged. He tucked the fragile instrument under his arm gingerly. "A violin sings, and a fiddle dances," he told Steve. "At least, that's what I've heard. There's no real difference." 

There was a moment of tense silence between the two, each searching for something to say.

Finally, Steve came up with something. "That was... lovely." Not the most eloquent conversational segue, but it worked.

"Ashokan Farewell. It's my favorite piece," Tony admitted. Quickly, he added, "It was played at my parents' memorial." Steve stared, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve said, and he was so sincere about it that Tony couldn't even brush it off with a joke. Instead he shrugged noncommittally. They both stood in reverent silence for a moment.

"Would you play it again? From the beginning?"

Tony eyed Steve curiously, but did not respond, instead, he lifted the instrument back to his chin, fitting it between his collarbone and jaw, and he began again. The tune was even more haunting all the way through. It recalled simpler times, an idea of which Steve was most fond. It was melancholy and nostalgic, speaking of tearful farewells and wordless goodbyes, with which Steve was familiar. He could not help but think of the parallels between his life and Tony's, and how "goodbye" was just as familiar to each.

"It's a beautiful song," Steve murmured as the tune came to its bittersweet denouement. "Is it old?" He didn't know anything about fiddle music, but a tiny part of him hoped he wasn't the oldest thing in this room.

"Well... sort of. I was twelve when it was written. But I never actually heard it until my parents' memorial service. I looked it up after that, because it reminds me of them," Tony confided, his expression darkening. "But, anyway, why are you up and wandering around?"

"Couldn't sleep," Steve snorted. "Like I said before. You?"

"The same, I suppose. I've been thinking about them a lot, lately." Tony chose his words carefully, not wanting to divulge the truth of his parents' deaths. Steve didn't answer. "I know sound pretty damn selfish, whining. Your whole family is gone."

"You have the right to mourn the passing of your parents howsoever you please. I won't hold that against you. My family's been gone..." he paused. "...for a long time."

"I bet it doesn't feel like it was that long," Tony said, too quickly. He almost winced at his own words as Steve turned away from him.

"It doesn't," Steve whispered, his face hard. He made to leave, but Tony grabbed his shoulder with his free hand. He stopped, but only to hear what Tony had to say. Out of his suit, Tony couldn't have stopped Steve no matter how hard he tried.

Tony took a deep breath. "Please don't go." Steve shrugged his hand away and resisted the urge to respond cynically. Instead, he turned to look Tony in the eye, their faces remarkably close. Steve wasn't sure if he should feel threatened, embarrased, or attracted, and all of his fire left him in that instant.

"Do you... know any other songs...?" he asked Tony softly, averting his gaze sheepishly. Tony released a tense breath and nodded, taking a step back. As he was about to lift the fiddle to his chin, Steve halted him with a wave.

"Look, the sun's coming up," he announced, nodding toward the vast windows. Tony nodded, smiling his usual mischievous smile.

"I know the perfect song," he chuckled. "It's called Whiskey Before Breakfast." Steve rolled his eyes and they both chuckled. It was remarkable how quickly Tony's charm turned the mood around. He began playing a jaunty, upbeat tune that Steve listened to in perfect stillness, smiling and then laughing as Tony bounced on his feet, stomping around animatedly as he played. When he finished, Steve nodded his approval.

"That was pretty good, Tony."

"Thanks, Rogers." Steve shook his head in amusement while Tony placed the violin back into its velvet lined cased, indicating he was finished for the time being. He put his arm around Steve like an old friend, and Steve let him silently.

"Let's go get some breakfast," Steve said, yawning as he walked with Tony. The latter man nodded enthusiastically.

"Whiskey first?" Tony joked and smirked. Steve shoved him away playfully and Tony raised his hands in mock defense.

That night, the soldier slept all the way through, dreaming of the fiddler.


End file.
